


Bittersweet

by AFCBrandon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark Daenerys Targaryen, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hate Sex, Hostage Situations, Incest, Love/Hate, Mental Abuse, Post Season 8, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24641278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFCBrandon/pseuds/AFCBrandon
Summary: He should hate her, even after all these years. And he supposed that there was a part of him that still did. "A dragon is no slave", but that had never stopped her from caging him all these years.Zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor - A Dragon is not a Slave. Though he was still a slave to her in some ways.*REUPLOAD*
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Reupload from a story I'd written a year ago after Season 8.

Darkness.

That’s all he saw. Figuratively. And literally. There wasn’t much else to see when your eyes were closed.

A moan from beneath him. Forward and back. In and out. He had those movements memorized.

Every night it was the same. He would walk the city and see the ruins of the once proud capitol. How long ago had it been? Years, hadn’t it? More than a decade? That’s what the new inhabitants would say. But to Jon? Days. Hours. All the same. The city had never been repaired, not to its former glory. Even after all these years, the city’s ruins had remained. The Queen had decreed it such, for any enemy to see with their very eyes the wrath and punishment that would await them should they conspire against the crown. _Her_ crown.

He gritted his teeth as he upped his movements with both speed and vigor.

Another moan and with a wanton nature to it.

Nails scraped down his back, hard and very much provoking of a wince. Long scars also adorned the taut muscle of his back. The Grand Maester had stopped pestering him with questions of them two moons into his service of the crown. By then he could figure their origins from the long and loud nights in the Red Keep.

The Red Keep. The only location of King’s Landing that the Queen had ordered to be rebuilt. Renovated with sturdier walls and taller towers. The throne room remodeled and refurnished with gold and diamonds. But that damn chair had remained ever present. How that cursed chair had survived the dismantling of the keep, Jon would never know. And the underground tunnels? How Jon would hate the day it was cleared.

Foolish. That’s how he would describe his late friend. The Dwarf of Casterly Rock. He had once heard from him that his ideal death was at a great old age, with a belly full of wine and a girl’s mouth around his cock. Jon severely hoped that dragon fire was second on his list.

Yes, when the Queen had been informed that the corpse of Cersei Lannister along with her brother Jaime was discovered by the excavators, Tyrion Lannister’s fate had been sealed. Jon had attempted to plead mercy on his friend’s behalf but was only met with a cold rebuttal and the first of many long nights of force used in the Queen’s quarters. Or was it their quarters? He supposed they were. Ever since that night, the queen had thoroughly enjoyed him and never let Jon sleep apart from her again.

More anger surged within him as he thrusted into his queen with more force than before. Grunts escaped his mouth as his sweat covered body met with hers. Loud moans and pants were the response of the woman that lay beneath him.

Though his eyes remained close, the image was familiar to him. Her breasts bouncing against his chest as he slid in and out between her legs.

“After all these years, I always wonder if you can get slightly even more pathetic at night. You continue to surprise me, Jon Snow.”

He paused his movements as he finally opened his eyes.

A sneer on his queen’s face as she looked at him with cruel violet eyes, her nails dug deeper into the ridged flesh of his back.

He bit back a wince.

“I almost half expect you to be reduced to tears the next time I take you to bed,” she said with a bored tone, her chest heaving as she tried to control her breaths.

“Would that stop these nights from continuing?”

He knew the answer before it left her lips.

“No,” she replied with a cruel smirk. “I think that would only motivate my efforts even further. Though, I think in time that would grow even more tiresome than the closing your eyes.”

“Then perhaps you should find another partner to spend your lonesome nights.”

She snorted with a light roll of her eyes.

“Mmm, and you’d enjoy that?”

“I wouldn’t feel anything,” he replied.

A lie. He would feel nothing, but happiness should Daenerys take a different paramour. That’s what he was, after all. A King “consort”. A glorified paramour.

“I suppose I could send an envoy to Mereen and ask for Daario Naharis to sail back here in haste. I’m sure he’d be delighted to take the Dragon Queen to bed once more.”

“I’m sure the sellsword’s talents will come of much needed use for you, as you’ve mentioned to me many times in the past.”

He felt himself growing limp as the seconds ticked by and he moved to slide himself out before she dug her nails with greater force and wrapped her slender and smooth legs around him. An evil glint filled her eyes as her smile remained.

An evil seductress. That was the best way that Jon could describe her.

“Daario is very much more outgoing and far more adventurous than you in the bedroom, of that there is no doubt. However,” she trailed off as she used one of her hands, with bloodstained nails, to trail and caress up and down his chest and abdomen, “he doesn’t possess this. The rigidness. The muscles. The firmness. I enjoy feeling it against my body. It’s all for me.”

She pulled him down towards her and angled his head so she could whisper seductively into his ear.

“You also know how to use that tongue of yours, Jon Snow. And… you’re a lot bigger too.”

She shook her hips just a bit around his now flaccid cock, but it was enough to harden him once more as he felt himself her walls tighten.

“I also don’t wish for any other man to find a place inside me except you, Jon Snow. My husband. My King. The father of my children.”

He closed his eyes once more.

“What do you think they’re doing at this moment? Our Daeron and Visenya?” she asked.

He clenched his jaw tightly as he slammed against her with nothing but fury.

“Oh,” she moaned. The hand that still rested against his back gripped with the same intensity as her other ran up and down his chest and abdomen. The sweat that slicked his skin allowing her hand to glide with smoothness.

“Do you- think,” she continued with ragged breaths “- that- he’s sliding inside her right now?”

Daenerys gave a low huff as Jon paused his movements once more, opening his eyes to look down on her with a cold and hard stare.

“Daeron and Visenya are brother and sister,” he said with a steely tone. “If their nights are filled with heat and passion, it would not be with one another.”

She gave a sharp laugh as she looked at him menacingly.

“The Targaryen line must remain pure and strong. If you think that they are intended for another other than each other, then you are _mistaken_ dear husband of mine.”

She looked at him with expecting eyes, daring him to try and go against her.

Tears of frustration and anger cornered around his eyes as he looked down upon her with as much hate as he could muster.

“I should’ve killed you that day.”

The smile died from her lips as she looked up at him with a hate filled glare of her own.

She moved her claws that sank into his back and moved them towards the back of his head, gripping his strands with force. She first gave a slight tug to his locks before forcing his head down to her, touching their foreheads together.

“Fuck your queen, Jon Snow,” she growled.

And he did.

He brought as much fury and intensity as he could. Her moans turned to screams as her legs wrapped tighter around him, toes curling as she dug her heels into his rear so as to drill him deeper insider her.

She brought his lips down to her and he found he couldn’t refuse her invading tongue, especially when she’d clenched around him while he spilled his seed. Even as her limbs weakened around him, he gave his last few bursts of thrusts to relieve every drop of himself inside her.

He unsheathed from her and began to roll to his side of the bed but was stopped by her hiss.

Jon rolled back over and took her within his arms as she nestled under his chin. He didn’t know why he attempted to get away from her every night, even after all these years; she would always require her sleep within his embrace.

“I love you,” she whispered into his chest, kissing the hideous scar over his heart.

It was a funny thing. Love. That she would love him, even after what he had said just moments earlier. Though, he supposed it wasn’t as funny as the predicament he found himself in.

A King without power, hostage to the Dragon Queen of House Targaryen. A “happily” married man to the most beautiful woman of the world. The father to their two beautiful children, Daeron and Visenya. He didn’t mean his words earlier. Not with what he knew now. Even if he hated his situation, it was far better having his children around. If given the option to go back in time and murder his queen and live without the knowledge he knew now, he would still make the same decision over and over again.

Because his children were the only sweetness he found in this bitter and cruel world he found himself in.

They were grown now, Daeron was eight and ten while Visenya was neared her sixteenth name day. He supposed Dany would decree their children’s betrothal to each other on that day.

Dany.

He still could not believe he called her that familiar name, even after all these years. Though, that was what was funnier than those three words that Dany had just said to him. That even after all the horror she had caused, and all the misery she had put him through, he would still hold a fondness for her in his heart.

We never choose who we love, he supposed.

“Aye, I love you as well.”


End file.
